


'Till You Kiss Me Goodnight

by lovethatwewerein, troubletonesglee



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 16,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25727530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethatwewerein/pseuds/lovethatwewerein, https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubletonesglee/pseuds/troubletonesglee
Summary: The day had finally come, simultaneously better and worse than he ever could’ve anticipated. His parents had taken his preferences to heart, had listened when he told them he was gay, and, although an official announcement was never made, they allowed him the freedom to tell who he wished. That fairness, however, was something he never thought to be extended to marriage. Yet, here he was.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Sebastian Smythe, Hunter Clarington/Sebastian Smythe
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from 'More of You' by Chris Stapleton. 
> 
> This is a team effort by @troubletonesglee and I. Please read it and let us know what you think. Neither of us have a great knowledge of how being a royal works, but we've given it our best.

The day had finally come, simultaneously better and worse than he ever could’ve anticipated. His parents had taken his preferences to heart, had listened when he told them he was gay, and, although an official announcement was never made, they allowed him the freedom to tell who he wished. That fairness, however, was something he never thought to be extended to marriage. Yet, here he was.

Hunter Clarington wasn’t royalty, wasn’t put on as high a pedestal by the public as he himself was, but he was no commoner and, to bring respect back to his smoky name, had agreed to marry Sebastian within the year. He was handsome, sandy blonde hair and arms that filled his uniform out spectacularly. 

His parents could’ve chosen worse, could’ve chosen Adam Crawford from a country over or Kurt Hummel from much further away. They could’ve chosen a woman, Quinn Fabray specifically, but they had shown their acceptance now, had stood faithfully by him in who he had grown to be, and he was grateful for that at least. 

For being forced into marriage with a stranger - not so much. 

He was no stranger to duty, to doing everything in his power to be worthy of his title and family name, to having very little choice. But marriage would be the robbery of his freedom, of his years as a young adult to experience life. Hunter Clarington taking a place beside him, waiting patiently for a throne to be handed to him, represented the loss of that. Of his childhood. 

He slowed his horse, a black beauty he’d lovingly named Pavarotti at the age of nine, as he approached the edge of the castle grounds. It was never an issue of running away, of the desperate desire Quinn had expressed to escape the privilege she’d been granted, but of how far he could venture without stopping. Just to leave for a little while. 

There’s a meadow just past the trees, filled with wildflowers and a small stream that divides the grounds from the neighbouring village. He so very rarely visits the people there, the baker’s son Nick or Miss Pillsbury that ran the cleaning store, but his father isn’t fond of him mingling and he needs him. 

No one is ever there, he reasons, bringing Pavarotti to a slow trot through the foliage. He can hear the birds, the rustling of the trees, and there’s a part of him, as there always in, that envies anyone with the liberty to live with this peace regularly. With nature. With love. 

He’s surprised when he’s not alone, when there’s a boy kneeling between clusters of bluebells and poppies. His black hair is mostly gelled to his head, a few curls curling around his ears and escaping to rest on his forehead. He can’t make out his eyes, his height or whether he smiles as beautifully as Sebastian knows he does. He kind of really wants to. 

“Are you supposed to be here?” He asks, climbing off Pavarotti with practiced ease. His horse is his most prized possession, competitions won and years grown together sealing their bond, and he never dismantles from him with less than the utmost grace. 

The boy looks up, his eyes drifting first to the left, away from where Sebastian is standing, and then to him. He can see the realisation dawn, can see him stand to greet him properly, and he doesn’t want that. Too many people have treated him with overwhelming respect today, have kissed up to him while he signed contracts to agree to the absence of his total happiness, so he does the only thing he can think of - throws himself on the ground to sit amongst the plants. 

“There’s no need for you to stand anymore,” he says, and all the confidence seeps out of his body, leaks from his bones and veins and pores with little dignity. “We can both just sit down.” 

Slight hesitation, perhaps wondering whether it’s a trick he’s playing on some unsuspecting stranger, before the other boy joins him on the floor. “I still feel like I should greet you properly. It feels wrong not to.” 

“Please, don’t,” He’s not above begging but he isn’t fond of the idea either. He stretches a hand out. “Sebastian Smythe.” 

“Blaine Anderson,” He - _Blaine_ \- answers, shaking Sebastian’s hand with a firmness he hadn’t expected. “I can leave if you would rather.” 

Sebastian quickly shakes his head, desperate now to not be alone with his thoughts. “No, stay. Please. What were you doing before I arrived?” 

Blaine twirls a finger around a strand of grass beside his kneecap, clutching the bunch of flowers he’d gathered closer to his chest. “Creating a bouquet, of course.” 

“Of course.” 

“I didn’t expect anyone to be here. The meadow’s usually empty at this time of day.” 

“I didn’t expect anyone to be here, either,” he notices that Blaine’s eyes are the colour of honey, of caramel, of things much sweeter than the green of Hunter’s. “I can’t fault the universe for bringing about fate, though.” 

Blaine blushes and it spreads delicately from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. It’s really quite endearing actually. “That’s very sweet of you.”

“It’s difficult not to be when looking at something so gorgeous,” he’s talking about Blaine but shifts his sight to the bouquet in his hands instead. Best not to have him run away for fear. “Who knew the flowers in this meadow could combine so prettily?” 

“I did.” 

So he’s cheeky too, when he’s not completely at a loss of what to say. He can understand Blaine’s shyness when he first joined him, how surreal it must be for royalty to merely stumble into your path, but he’s glad there’s some snark hidden under those layers of blush and bow ties. 

“Is it a hobby of yours?” 

“My family are actually the local florists,” he explains. The sun is setting in the horizon, golds and oranges blending into blues and purples. He has to go home, has to reassure his parents that this hasn’t pushed him away from his heritage. He kind of really doesn’t want to. 

It’s the first time he’s understood Quinn’s desire to run far away, to abandon the comfort of money and support in favour of something more desirably. In favour of doing whatever takes his fancy. 

He’s not going to. But he wants to. 

“I apologise for having to cut our first meeting short,” he says, standing in front of Blaine, Pavarotti waiting patiently at his side. And, purely because he can, he brushes his thumb over the corner of Blaine’s bow tie, the material soft under it. “Hopefully we’ll meet again.” 

Blaine nods, a soft smile foreign to Sebastian on his lips. “Hopefully we will.” 

That smile is all that gets him through his mother’s reassurances that Hunter is the perfect match. 

That smile and Blaine’s eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When Blaine had left the house that morning, he definitely hadn’t expected things to turn out quite as they did that day.  
> Running his fingers over his hair, smoothing the escaped curls with his fingers, he’d called to his mother, telling her that he was off to pick wildflowers from just outside the village boundaries. "Yes, I’ll stick to the path. I know, I won’t go any further than the water pump."”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

When Blaine had left the house that morning, he definitely hadn’t expected things to turn out quite as they did that day.  
  
Running his fingers over his hair, smoothing the escaped curls with his fingers, he’d called to his mother, telling her that he was off to pick wildflowers from just outside the village boundaries.

"Yes, I’ll stick to the path. I know, I won’t go any further than the water pump."  
So he’d set off, the bright greens and pinks of springtime surrounding his view as he followed the old gravel path that led into the meadow. He’d always loved it there, the only sound was the warm breeze rustling the slightly too long grass, the soft fragrance of the flowers filling his nostrils. It had never changed. Not much around here ever did.

He moved expertly through the grass, weaving between plants and picking only the best wildflowers, loading his basket fairly quickly. Eyes scanning his collection, he could see the bright blue bursts of cornflower petals, the delicate daisies his mother loved so much, and the soft hues of yarrow.

All he was missing was the poppies, the staple centrepiece of their bouquets. But he couldn’t see a flash of red anywhere, so decided to keep walking, eyes darting through the meadow, searching for them patiently.

Allowing to pause for a second, he looked back where he’d came from, checking that he hadn’t missed them. He smiled, seeing the meadow from this angle reminding him of the summer nights he’d spent here with Rachel last year, laughing together in the evening’s golden light.

She’d looked particularly radiant one night, the sun making her hair and skin glow gently, and his mind had gone back to all those books he’d read over the course of his life, stories of people falling in love, locking lips at times exactly like this.

It seemed as though she’d had the same thought, as next thing he knew, she was rocking forwards on her toes, watching him nervously. He’d taken it upon himself to close the gap (it always happened that way in books), bending to kiss her, both pairs of lips nervous and inexperienced.

But he didn’t feel the sparks. Instead he felt a flame, the flame of guilt roaring in his stomach, because what if those kids at school were right? What if he really did love the wrong sort of people? That kiss had almost confirmed it, clarified that he was, in fact, attracted to boys.

Blaine could remember how his cheeks had burned at that, how Rachel’s face had softened, seeming to understand. Nothing had changed between them. Still not exactly friends, but one another’s closest confidant.

They never spoke about it after. That they had kissed, or what had prevented them from getting together like their parents had hoped.

Pulling himself from the memory, he continued on, hunting for poppies. He had gone further than he normally would, but he couldn’t recall seeing the water pump, so kept going.

His eyes caught a bright flash, eyes falling upon a neat row of poppies. Smiling proudly to himself, he knelt down to pick them, tugging as close to the root as he could, just like his mother had taught him all those years ago. His whole family had been florists, and had been for generations. They did grow a lot of flowers themselves, but their wildflower bouquets were much loved in the village, likely because they were cheaper.

That’s when he’d seen him.

Thinking about it now, a few hours later when the sky had turned a deep navy, he still couldn’t quite believe it.  
His voice had caught Blaine off guard, the owner of it surprising him even more. Being in the presence of royalty, let alone that of the real rather dashing Prince Sebastian, was naturally going to be incredibly overwhelming for the son of a florist.

Blaine hadn’t seen his face properly at first, but then he dropped off of the beautiful horse he’d been sat atop of and Blaine almost swooned. He had noticed the Prince’s eyes first, the same colour as the grass he was now sat on, although the poppies and bluebells he perched among had reflected mesmerising in them. Blaine had had to tear his own away, instead trying to focus on the rest of his face.

It was really no surprise that the village girls all whispered about Prince Sebastian - he was unmistakably, incredibly attractive. Blaine had a feeling that the Prince knew.

Blaine didn’t know where the confidence he spoke to the Prince came from, but he boldly replied "I did," to his comment about how nicely the wildflowers looked when mixed together, Sebastian’s eyes had twinkled softly, obviously amused. Blaine seriously hoped he hadn’t spoken out of line.

It had been also been difficult to ignore the slow change in the sky from blue to a blazing combination of orange and yellow - it looked much like it had when he had kissed Rachel all those summers ago, but bolder, more daring; something told him it wasn’t a coincidence, but he was trying to convince himself that he was being silly. What could the sky possibly know?  
Their conversation was short, ended by Prince Sebastian swinging back up onto the sleek back of his horse with an ease that Blaine imagined came from years of riding lessons.

He hoped desperately that they’d meet again, just as the other boy had suggested, even though he knew that it was unlikely. But Blaine had always been a dreamer.

He’d stood up too, like he’d seen his parents do in the shop when a customer was leaving - he supposed it was the polite thing to do, and he didn’t want to seem rude, not to royalty.  
  
The days hadn’t grown very long at this stage in the year, so he watched as Sebastian rode off into the purple evening, Blaine lingering a little too long as he disappeared, before heading home. His mother would be getting worried by now.

Settling into bed that night, Blaine looked at the ceiling, still dazzled by the events of the day. When he finally fell asleep, he dreamt of bright green.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I’m @/troubletonesglee on tumblr, and you can find seblaine_403 over at @/love-that-we-were-in :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Quinn finds out about his engagement at the same time as everyone else. His parents announce it through a party with only the highest members of society - no one with gelled down curls and shining honey eyes - Hunter standing beside him dressed in his military uniform despite his discharge earlier in the year._

Quinn finds out about his engagement at the same time as everyone else. His parents announce it through a party with only the highest members of society - no one with gelled down curls and shining honey eyes - Hunter standing beside him dressed in his military uniform despite his discharge earlier in the year. 

She’s angry and, yes, she has every right to be. In their world, in their families, they’ve only had one another to go to support. To trust with their darkest secrets without fear of that confidence being a weakness. She’s the first person he told about his sexuality, about the kiss near the stables with a boy he never saw again. He’s the first she told about the need to escape, to run from who she was born to be. Their relationship was give and take - and he’d taken more than his share. 

“We only met last week,” he assures her as they sweep across the floor, the accompanying orchestra not loud, per se, but certainly enough to stop them being overheard. “It’s mutually beneficial.” 

“That’s always their reason, Sebastian,” she whispers, following his lead with a careful precision, years of shared waltzes holding them in perfect synchronicity. “Have you even spoken to him since?” 

He can see Hunter over the top of her head, the stiffness of his back and shoulders while his partner spoke words Sebastian couldn’t make out. He’s still as handsome as the week prior, sensible hair and stoic expressions. Nothing at all like the bright smiles of the boy from the meadow. Blaine. A florist’s son. 

“Just before the party,” he says, placing his hand back on her waist to balance her from the simple lift. He doesn’t have to, she barely teeters on her heels, but he always has. Since age five, forced into a dozen dance lessons with the same girl each time, he’s ensured she kept her balance. It’s their little thing. “He was awfully polite.”

Quinn almost rolls her eyes. The corners twitch and her smile tightens. She’s too well-adjusted for that. Too regal. “Well, he is to be your husband.” 

“You and I both know that that means nothing.” 

“Touché.” 

They finish the dance, polite bows exchanged as the rule book insists. Neither of them stifle their chuckles at that. His mother calls him forward, to the centre of the room where his father and Hunter’s already stand. It’s formal and stiff and he hates that this is what his parents have been turned into, people that rely far more on reputation than the million other things they could have. 

The band stops, the screech of the bow against a violin string as it’s brought to a halt threatening to burst his eardrums. His father steps forward, a firm hand on his elbow to guide him along. He feels like the same young boy that dragged his feet at the concept of dancing with Quinn Fabray. 

“Beloved guests,” his father starts, deep voice carrying to the scarcest corners of the room. It’s the one thing he always admired the man for, his ability to entrance a room with a few words. It’s not something he himself possessed. “We are grateful that you joined in celebration this evening. 

“Many of you know my son, Sebastian, and those of you more familiar with our armed forces will also know of his intended, Hunter. We’re so very happy for them both - for the love they’ve come to share in recent times. And we wish them the best on their impending nuptials.” 

There’s applause when his father finishes speaking, the kind that remains quiet the entire duration instead of growing to a deafening level of sound. It makes him ill, that he’s known most of these people since he was a little boy, that he’s rubbed shoulders with the elderly and likely rubbed more personal parts of the boys his own age. The girls are mainly untouched, in their fancy dresses draped in jewels, and for that he’s proud of himself. If nothing else, he’s kept them pure. 

Purer than he ever considered himself to be. 

As pure as Blaine might be. 

Quinn chooses to hold fort around nine, gathering the guests their age that plan to remain in the castle for the night into his living room. He gave her free reign of his rooms at fifteen, desperate to sneak out under the cover of darkness to visit whichever boy agreed to experiment with him in dark corners after a formal gathering. He upheld his end of the bargain, never stopped her from doing as she pleased when she stayed the night, but she’s never ruined his sanctuary. Never done anything that would make him resent her that promise. 

“Does she know the truth?” He doesn’t hear Hunter approach him until he’s right there, a glass of whisky cradled in his hands. “About us?” 

It’s evident of his character that he sensed Sebastian’s love for the blonde. That he figured she was his best friend after only an evening. But he’s never denied how special she was to him either, and that could play some small part. 

“She knows me better than anyone.” 

“I can tell.” 

He wanted to hate Hunter, wanted to have the capacity to blame all of this on him. But Hunter is the type of person he would have chosen for himself in life, smart and handsome and just promiscuous enough to be inviting without offending. He wants to hate Hunter. He wants to hate that this has ruined his life. He doesn’t. 

Quinn remains the only person in his living room after midnight, her head resting on his shoulder with a comforting familiarity, her floral scent flooding his senses. It reminds him of the meadow, of the promise he made to Blaine when he left a week ago. Of wildflowers and raspberry hair gel and purple skies. It reminds him of freedom. 

“There’s something you aren’t telling me,” she says into the air around them, into the moonlight drifting through the bay windows and the starry night. He’s reminded of why he loves her, then, of how she can read him in a way his parents only dream about in their most impossible fantasies. “And it’s not about tonight.” 

He could tell her. About Blaine and the meadow and how he understands her now. He could tell her about the poppies and the stream and the colour of whisky no longer being his preferred drink, but his preferred eye colour. He could tell her that he’s lost in wonder about what could be. She’d set him straight. 

“You can tell me anything,” she continues, moving off his shoulder to centre her gaze on him. His shoulders slump. She strokes his fringe out of his eyes. “Anything.” 

He sighs, debating how worth it telling her would be. How it would settle his stomach and his heartbeat. “I met someone. In the meadow on the edge of the grounds.” 

Quinn knows the exact location, the days they spent there at fifteen, the age they started thinking of rebellion. Of revolutions and strikes and turning their back on their birthrights. It had been their meadow, for a time. 

“What were you doing out there?” 

The question makes sense. He swore that he’d never return once he discovered her kissing Wes Montgomery between the daisies. But he wishes she asked him about Blaine. It’s possible he just wants to talk to someone about him. 

“I got distracted while riding,” he says instead of anything he truly wants to. “Force of habit.” 

She nods, bites her lip like she doesn’t believe him. “Did you know him?” 

“He’s the florist’s son.” He’s not good enough. “He’s awfully pretty.” 

“Then I suppose it’s a shame he was born into a common life.” 

It’s what he expects. Quinn was raised the way he was, too look down on the villagers with thin levels of respect for how they make their living. But he wishes she had said something else, something that made him feel less guilty about the memory of those eyes and that cheeky smile. Of that boy that wore a bow tie. 

He smiles sadly and, if his friend registers his melancholy, she deigns to ignore it. “A shame, indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at love-that-we-were-in on tumblr and you can find troubletonesglee at @/troubletonesglee on tumblr as well. Thanks for reading :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When Blaine saw Rachel the next day, he very nearly told her about his meeting with Sebastian. But he had decided not to tell anyone, wanting it to keep it to himself, like a secret that’s too good to tell. He’d managed to keep it close to his chest for a week now, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about the Prince every waking second.”

When Blaine saw Rachel the next day, he very nearly told her about his meeting with Sebastian. But he had decided not to tell anyone, wanting it to keep it to himself, like a secret that’s too good to tell. He’d managed to keep it close to his chest for a week now, but that hadn’t stopped him from thinking about the Prince every waking second.

Anyway, he knew that Rachel would make it a huge deal - well, it was a huge deal, he’d met the Prince - but he wasn’t sure he wanted it dramatised. Rachel was great, she was, but she was also a lot. 

She was sort a big thing in the village - her singing voice was beautiful, and people would flock to the small, local pub to hear her.

But neither of them had ever really fit in. Sure, a lot of people liked Blaine, but he didn’t really belong anywhere. Rachel had always had trouble making friends, likely because people either didn’t really know how to cope with her, or were simply jealous.

There was a girl who they had gone to school with - the mayor’s daughter (not they really had much use for a mayor) - who had always tried to be like Rachel. She was called Sugar, and was as sweet as her name suggested, but she really couldn’t sing. She had tried for a while, which had gotten her popular (most people assumed she was making fun of Rachel), but her singing had obviously got her down. Rachel had offered her some tips, so they sometimes spoke, but Sugar mostly stuck with the bigger group.

"I’m singing later, but I can’t decide whether to go with a song from Funny Girl or Hello Dolly."

"Didn’t you do Barbra a few weeks ago? Maybe you should try something a bit different, keep it fresh."

"Blaine, it’s Barbra! What could be fresher than her?"

Blaine shrugged in defeat. He knew he couldn’t win.

Instead, he thought back to the previous week. He still couldn’t quite believe that he, Blaine Anderson, had met a Prince. Especially not so casually, not so unexpectedly.

He had tried to tell himself that the way Sebastian had spoken to him was special, done in a way that was different to how he spoke to everyone else, but he doubted that that was true. Surely royalty were trained for things like that? Everyone adored them, and he supposed that work had to have gone into protecting that image.

When he’d woken up the morning after meeting him, he had genuinely thought it had all been a dream.

What Blaine couldn’t understand, however, was why the Prince has just thrown himself to the ground so easily, especially for a stranger, especially for a boy from the local village, and not even an important boy.

But he couldn’t ponder on it for too long, because Rachel was waving a hand in front of his face, fighting for his attention.

"Blaine? Blaine, what are you thinking about?"

"I met the Prince." Well, there went not telling anyone.

"WHAT?! Why didn’t you tell me that?

"I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d do - that! Keep your voice down.” he urged, tugging her sleeve.

"Right, apologies, but where did you meet him? When?" She practically whispered.

"I was by the castle, picking poppies, last week. He just sort of came over and started talking to me." He willingly matched her tone.  
"You’re telling me that you spoke to the hottest guy for miles?"

"I thought that guy in your English class was the hottest, isn’t his name like Fi-"

"Fine, fine, fine, the second hottest guy,” She replied hurriedly, cutting Blaine off. He grinned cheekily, "I’ve got to go, but this conversation is far from over, Blaine Anderson."

He waved her off, before deciding to head home.  
The very instant he walked into the house, a warm smell hit him, the delicious, unknown scent filling his nostrils. He entered the kitchen to find his mother cleaning the countertops.

"Whatcha you makin’?" He asked curiously.

"Nothing, I’m just keeping the bread warm.” His mother answered, not looking at him, entirely focused on her cleaning.

"Is it from Rory’s family?"

"Of course," she smiled, resting a hand on her hip and turning to face him, "what’s this I hear about you meeting a Prince?"

Blaine froze. "How do you know about that?"

"As lovely as she is, Rachel cannot keep her mouth shut," she laughed fondly, "either you’re incredibly slow or she’s incredibly quick because she came to tell me before you made it in."

He rolled his eyes but didn’t hold back his smile at that.  
"I’m assuming that means you didn’t stick to the water pump?"  
Blaine looked at his feet, "maybe not."  
"What was the one thing I told you to do before you left yesterday?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Stick to the water pump." He mumbled, closely inspecting the floor tiles. He had yesterday, but he didn’t feel like this would be a good time to mention that.

His mother stretched a hand out, tilting his face up. "You really are my son." She said, stroking a finger over his cheek, then patting his head, "You can go to the shop, make yourself useful."

He nodded, obliging, and headed back out the door. His mother always kept him busy.

Kicking a stone along the path, Blaine pushed his hands deep inside his pockets, today being much chillier than the previous day. He didn’t mind the fresher days, cold air turning the tip of his nose and his ears pink. He was missing the heat of the day before, though, the feeling of the near approaching summer, seeing all the younger kids out on the slide. He missed those days, sometimes. 

Things had been so much easier back then, his only worry being if that same slide was too hot to go on.

He looked at it longingly, debating going on, but he caught a glimpse of some of the local boys his age and decided against it. Instead, he picked up his pace, walking briskly towards the florists.

Upon entering, the shop was drenched in the strong, sweet scent of the yarrow he’d picked the day before. He made his way to the counter, and sitting on top of it was a bunch of poppies.

A name sprang to mind; Sebastian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find us @/troubletonesglee and @/love-that-we-were-in on tumblr :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He and Hunter join his father on his trip to the village that Tuesday. Their engagement yet to be told to the general public, waiting until the families closest to them (in status and wealth at least) received the news. And now, their time was up. A part of him, a small part that longed to still be in the meadow over a week ago with a pretty boy, detested his parents for bringing this forward._

He and Hunter join his father on his trip to the village that Tuesday. Their engagement yet to be told to the general public, waiting until the families closest to them (in status and wealth at least) received the news. And now, their time was up. A part of him, a small part that longed to still be in the meadow over a week ago with a pretty boy, detested his parents for bringing this forward. 

But his father wanted to announce it in person, wanted to spread the news before the papers caught wind and spread the story, so he had little choice but to sit beside Hunter in the car. The drive is long and boring and he wishes, not for the first time that morning, that he was doing anything else. 

“You know what to say when the crowd gathers, don’t you, Sebastian?” His father asks when they drive past the castle gates, away from the safety of its stone walls. He nods, keeping his gaze locked on the woodlands passing them by instead of meeting his father’s eyes. “And you as well, Hunter?” 

His father isn’t fond of his betrothed, of the stain on the Clarington family that Hunter caused earlier in the year. He thinks their partnership to be more beneficial to theirs than his own. He’s not wrong, they’re all aware of that fact, but he’s sure it still stings when he addresses Hunter with barely concealed disdain. 

“I stand behind Sebastian supportively like a dutiful partner should,” Hunter says monotonously, his tone betraying just how often he’s reminded himself that he’s to be no different than one would consider a society wife. “I’m only there to make him look pretty.” 

He hates it, the resentment dripping from Hunter’s tongue. Despite the choice being stolen from them, he wants them to be amiable in the very least. And his father is really the only one making it difficult. If nothing else, they can’t stop the wedding until one of them dies, and he wishes they could be civil. That they can be polite over breakfast and dinner. He doesn’t expect it to happen, but he can hope. 

The villagers gather as quickly as he expected, several of them just following the car down the road, yelling for their families to join them as they pass houses and shops. The baker exits covered in flour and the mayor’s daughter stands patiently in the town square. There’s awe in most of the children’s eyes, sparks of wonder that he knows they get from the ideas they’ve built in fairy tales. He resents them just a little for retaining that joy. 

“Smile when you talk, Sebastian,” his father mutters, climbing out of the car, the picture of sophistication and poise. “Don’t embarrass me.” 

He helps Hunter out of the car, as he was raised to with the dozens of girls he could’ve married, and if the other man is emasculated by the action, he fails to let on. He merely smiles in thanks and links their arms, a flawless action that assures him there are so many better options to take the crown instead of him - his own fiance being one. 

It’s almost enough to make him hurl. 

The mayor’s daughter, Sugar, greets them enthusiastically and she seems as sweet as her name suggests, if not hyperactive. They’ve set up a small stage near the fountain, far enough that no one will get wet but close enough that the photos taken will appear magical. 

“We’re having one of our more talented members of the community, Rachel Berry, sing before your announcement,” Sugar explains when a short brunette makes her way onto the stage with confidence. “We thought it would get any stragglers to join the crowd.” 

“It’s not a problem,” he assures her, scanning the crowd for black hair he still remembers. Nothing. “I look forward to hearing what she has prepared.” 

Rachel Berry is good, great even. He can’t deny her talent, can’t pretend she isn’t one the best singers he’s heard in his years of watching professional entertainment. But the song, her voice, doesn’t remove him from the situation, from the lack of feeling between him and Hunter. Doesn’t replace his reality with something completely unrecognisable. One where he isn’t expected to marry a stranger. 

“It’s my pleasure to introduce His Royal Highness, King Christopher and Prince Sebastian,” Rachel Berry says when she’s finished, a show smile on her face that he can’t quite find reason for. 

Until he sees where she’s standing, who she’s standing with. And it’s Blaine. Blaine from the meadow that was cheeky and accepted his request for informality. Who reacted to his flirting with stuttering and blushing and probably returned to the meadow since. Blaine that’s taken root in a section of his mind like a tumour he can’t afford to remove. Blaine that’s wearing a polo shirt the same bright colour as the poppies he sat amongst when they met with a striped bow tie. 

And then his father is speaking. “My son, Sebastian, is proud to announce that he has found his match in Hunter Clarington, has found his love with Hunter Clarington. They’ve decided to marry in the fall.” 

Most of the crowd cheers, raising their fists to the sky in support of a union they know nothing about. His focus is on Blaine, the stain on his cheeks, the polite applause he grants before weaving his way through the crowd, Rachel gripping tightly on his elbow. 

His father continues, empty words that translate to nothing so much as, “we’re better than you and you love it,” and Blaine is gone, lost in the flurry of people filling the gaps he and Rachel had stood in 

The tiniest part of him, the part infatuated with wildflowers and honey eyes, wants to chase after him, explain the situation until Blaine understands this isn’t something Sebastian asked for. But he can’t. He can only smile, a hand resting on Hunter’s back, and nod along to words he doesn't hear from his father’s mouth. And then, with the barest hint of emotion, he’s accepting a bouquet from Blaine’s mother, a handshake from his father, and he can’t tell if they know but it eats at him on the drive home. 

He longs for Quinn’s company over Hunter’s. Longs for her snarky comments about the plainness of the village girls. Longs for Blaine’s ease, for sitting on the ground with his horse and a cute boy.

He longs to be Sebastian.

His father takes to the stage once more, a collective thanks leaving his lips that he knows makes every person there feel special, feel seen. He wishes them the best (although they both know it’s only the best that means nothing compared to their best), good fortune and all, before herding him and Hunter into the car. 

“I really hate the village,” he says, a heavy sigh escaping him and the conversation drops. They each sit and reflect, think of how different their lives could be. He does, at least. He can’t actually assume that of the other two. 

He excuses himself to the stables when they arrive back home, mounting Pavarotti with a fierce determination. He’s not sure if it's a fruitless attempt, if Blaine cared for his side of things, or if he just went home. But he has to try. 

Blaine’s there, sat amongst the flowers with despair in his eyes, a sadness that stretches across the fields neither of them can truly understand. He talks and Blaine listens. To his reality, to his woes - whatever he chooses to categorize it as - and, when they’ve finished speaking, lies on the grass with him and looks at the stars. 

He leaves when it becomes too much, too familiar and welcoming and warm despite the wind creeping beneath his clothing. 

Hunter joins him in his rooms when he arrives back at the castle, citing the need for a drink if he’s going to be sane for any of their engagement. And it’s a testament to how out-of-sorts Blaine has him, how confused and tired and attracted to him he is, that he takes the time to appreciate the way Hunter looks. To appreciate that, if nothing else, he’s getting someone he would happily sleep with as a husband. 

“Whisky?” 

“Please.” 

He can’t remember much except the heat of Hunter underneath him after his third glass.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The sky was now beginning to shift, becoming a rich, smoky blue, like a watercolour painting hanging over the meadow. Blaine was walking quickly, not watching where he was stepping or checking where he was going. He didn’t really care. He had finally escaped the crowds, crossing into the long grass, the water droplets that had been coating each blade melting into his trousers.
> 
> He wrapped his arms tightly round himself, trying to shut out the cold air, wind thrashing his face. It didn’t bother him. Blaine wasn’t really sure why he felt so... empty. It wasn’t like Sebastian owed him anything. He hadn’t betrayed him. They didn’t even know one another, not really. But the way Sebastian had looked at him, every time he’d seen him. That had meant something to Blaine, and he’d convinced himself that it had something to Sebastian.“

The sky was now beginning to shift, becoming a rich, smoky blue, like a watercolour painting hanging over the meadow. Blaine was walking quickly, not watching where he was stepping or checking where he was going. He didn’t really care. He had finally escaped the crowds, crossing into the long grass, the water droplets that had been coating each blade melting into his trousers.

He wrapped his arms tightly round himself, trying to shut out the cold air, wind thrashing his face. It didn’t bother him. Blaine wasn’t really sure why he felt so... empty. It wasn’t like Sebastian owed him anything. He hadn’t betrayed him. They didn’t even know one another, not really. But the way Sebastian had looked at him, every time he’d seen him. That had meant something to Blaine, and he’d convinced himself that it had something to Sebastian.

Of course it hadn’t. They’d had one conversation. One. For what, 5 minutes? Blaine knew he was being irrational, but it still hurt.

He found himself surrounded by trees, so he sunk down onto the ground, knees pulled up either side of him. He took a long breath, trying to pull himself together. This wasn’t a big deal. They weren’t together. They weren’t ever going to be. It wasn’t even like he could put an end to Sebastian's marriage, so there was nothing he could do, besides pushing Sebastian out of his mind.

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging curls from the gel and liking the feel of the pressure that accompanied it. He massaged his temples, trying to will away the headache that he could approaching, not caring that more hair was freeing itself from the tight hold.

He regretted it when he looked up.

"Blaine, hi." Sebastian was lowering himself to the ground, flattening his jacket over the wet soil before sitting on top of it.

Blaine noticed how the Prince didn’t even have to think about his name. He didn’t say anything.

"I assume you’ve heard the news?"

"You know full well that I know." His brashness came as a surprise, but he didn’t apologise.

"Right." The Prince dropped his eyes, fiddling with his fingers. Blaine looked for a ring.

"No one would know you were to be married just by looking at you."

"What?" Sebastian followed Blaine’s eyes., "ah, I see what you mean. I - I took it off before coming out this evening."

He lied well, but not enough for it to fly under the radar.

"You don’t want him."

"Excuse me?" Sebastian looked genuinely taken aback.

"You were looking for me, I know you were."  
Sebastian paused, presumably weighing up the situation. "No, I wasn’t. I was looking at everyone."

"I don’t believe you." Blaine’s words were blunt - he couldn’t find it in himself to be gentle, although he really was trying to be polite.

"There’s morning to not believe. I’m going to marry him, and there’s nothing to say I don’t want to." His tone was firm, and Blaine almost changed his mind. Almost thought he was wrong.

"Your friend is very talented." Sebastian’s words cut through the night. Blaine supposed he had been right when he decided that the Prince had been trained. He could keep a conversation alive even without another person’s input.

"She’s great, yeah."

Blaine picked at the grass, rolling long green strands between his fingers. Sebastian watched, which was a little uncomfortable but not terrible. He ignored his gaze as it drifted across his face.  
"Walk with me?"

"Why?"

"It’s cold under these trees. They’ve been here since my family first came to power, did you know that?"

"I did. It made my family’s jobs much harder, so."  
Sebastian blinked, clearly not really knowing how to respond. "Right. Have your family always been florists?"

"Longer than the Smythe’s have been on the throne."

"That’s at least a few centuries."

Blaine rolled his eyes, getting to his feet. "Really? Thought it was only a month."

He began to walk, heading back the way he came. Realising that he couldn’t hear footsteps, he panicked, turning back round. He’d offended him, hadn’t he? There was no way that would end well. They’d shut his family’s shop down, they’d put Blaine on trial, they’d -

"Are you coming or not?" Blaine had absolutely no idea where all of this confidence was coming from, he didn’t know why he was being so bold tonight. Maybe he was trying to chase the thought of Sebastian away. The thought of the boy who had just thrown himself to the ground when they’d first met, the boy who had looked for him in a crowd when he’d announced his engagement to someone else. He shook his head, banishing the memories.

Instead, he listened for light footsteps, before walking back into the more open part of the meadow. It was drenched in the moonlight, a silver glow flooding everything in his view. He waited until the Prince was by his side.

He wished he hadn’t. Sebastian looked so... beautiful. The light bounced off of his cheekbones, just like it did from the love interest in every book he’d ever read. This wasn’t the same. This was real life.

"I’ve never seen the meadow like this before." he spoke, obviously trying to absorb every last detail. He looked genuinely awe inspired.

"I love it like this. It really comes alive under the moon." Blaine could feel the anger melting away, tried to ignore the sadness that was now seeping in.

Sebastian simply nodded, not saying anything.

"When I saw you the first time - were you trying to run away from everything? The engagement, I mean?" Blaine’s words were soft, delicate, almost as if they’d break.

"I told you, there’s nothing to run away from," the words sounded false, as if he was trying to convince himself of them. He was doing a good job of covering it up, though. "Watch the stars with me."

So they laid in the grass, water sneaking into their clothes. They didn’t speak; there was nothing to say. They stayed that way for a while, not saying their goodbyes until the sky began to change.

When he returned home, Blaine perched on his front step, rubbing his eyes to chase away the tiredness that was closing in. When he looked back up, the stars were much lighter, disappearing from view. But he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a boy, not all that unlike him, watching the very same ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> You can find us @/troubletonesglee and @/love-that-we-were-in on tumblr :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His mother is waiting for him at the breakfast table the next morning, sipping quietly at her tea as she reads through the local newspaper. He doesn’t know where Hunter is, whether he’s fled the castle or if he’s just occupied, but he’s in desperate need of coffee before he so much as thinks about how slighted he should feel._

His mother is waiting for him at the breakfast table the next morning, sipping quietly at her tea as she reads through the local newspaper. He doesn’t know where Hunter is, whether he’s fled the castle or if he’s just occupied, but he’s in desperate need of coffee before he so much as thinks about how slighted he should feel. 

“I notice Hunter hasn’t joined you,” his mother comments, passing him the sugar without looking up. “Long night?” 

“If my hangover is any indication.” 

“Very well,” He watches her finish her tea, sweeping the cup to the side with a delicate hand. She’s always possessed an unrivalled sense of decorum. Even when she’s learning about her people. “And you’ve become familiar with one another so far?” 

He almost chokes on his toast. Almost. “We haven’t had much chance to talk - no.” 

“I imagine you haven’t. You should, Sebastian,” she finally glances up from the paper, his own eyes staring back at him with mirth. “It wouldn’t do well if you barely knew the man when you wed.” 

“Of course,” he nods, gesturing to one of the staff to take his plate away. She does so hurriedly, disappearing through the doorway without a word. “When I next see him, I’ll be sure to enquire about his various interests. Perhaps we could watch a polo match together.” 

“I don’t think he is fond of polo,” she shakes her head, folding the paper and placing it down. “I believe his favourite sport is lacrosse actually.” 

“Well,” he stands, adjusting his tie. “I’ll be sure to get a definitive answer soon.” 

She excuses him with a flick of her wrist, passing her tea cup to the nearest maid with a nod of thanks. His father always disliked that part of her, the part that treats everyone with equal fairness, that thanks the staff for the work they do to keep the house in perfect condition. It’s admirable really, when he lets himself think about it. 

*

Hunter approaches him three days later, finding him in the gardens amongst the roses his mother prefers. He’s dressed impeccably, only his hair amiss, a few of the strands lose against his forehead as opposed to confined within a small amount of gel. 

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he greets, sitting down on the bench beside him. There’s a gardener several feet away tending to the flowers. “Your mother said I might find you here.” 

“She was, as you can see, correct.” 

“Quite.” 

They fall into a brief silence. He wonders if hunter isn’t sure where go begin, whether to broach the topic of a few nights ago or to leave it where it is, to move forward so the next few months can do so as well. He knows that he’s not entirely sure which is the best course of action himself. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” 

Hunter stares at him for a moment, let’s his fingers clench his thigh until his knuckles turn white. “I think it might be helpful.” 

“Go for it.” 

“I didn’t plan for it to happen. You do know that, right?” He nods, watching as his jaw clenches. It has no business being as attractive as it is. “This is all just happening so fast.” 

“I can understand that.” 

He can’t. Not really. For so long he’s known that he’s destined for an arranged marriage, that is parents would match him with someone compatible and lie to the world about their structure. Hunter never had that privilege. All he had was a family name desperate to be rebuilt. 

“And the sex?” 

It’s a test, of sorts. He knows how it was for him, how much he enjoyed sharing his bed with Hunter that night as compared to being alone. But then, it’s not that he shard his bed with Hunter. It’s that he shared it with a body. Someone warm with a rough touch. Someone unafraid to take just as much control as he had. That’s what he had enjoyed about it. 

“Was more than satisfactory.” 

He snorts. It’s not an answer he’s ever been given before. Passionate, frenzied, glorious, he has heard from time to time. More than satisfactory is new, but it isn’t negative. So he’ll take it.

“If that’s how it’s going to be,” he says, gesturing for Hunter to continue with whatever he had intended to say previously. It’s not nearly as fun as talking about sex but, if anything, it saves the gardener coming closer from embarrassment. 

“I’ve done many things wrong in my life, Sebastian,” Hunter chuckles, shaking his head even as he buttons his jacket. “Things I’m not proud of. But I refuse to turn my back on this. To let anyone else take the fall for my misdeeds.” 

“Like what?” 

He sighs, the noise carrying so much weight. It’s strange, seeing someone so tall become small in the blink of an eye. He’s not so sure he likes it. “The steroids, for one. All I wanted was to prove that I was good enough - just once. And that backfired miserably.” 

“In the military? That’s what they discharged you for?” 

“You didn’t know?” 

“No one told me,” He shrugs, tapping a foot against the ground to a rhythm he doesn’t recognize. “I suppose no one thought it was something I should know.” 

“Do you think less of me?” Hunters voice is quiet, small in the sprawling gardens filled with dozens of flowers he couldn’t name if he tried. Blaine probably could name them. Perhaps he’d ask one day. “For doing what I did.” 

“You aren’t the only one who’s made mistakes, Hunter,” he says after a moment, focusing his attention on a rose nearby instead of the man beside him. “I can’t begrudge you that. I’m not perfect.” 

“The way everyone here talks about you, you’d think you were.” 

“Yes, well. Looks can be deceiving.” 

The conversation falls after that, their words leaving with the breeze that’s beginning to pick up. He’d been informed that a storm was fast approaching and he’d prefer to be inside. 

Hunter retreats to a guest room that evening, joining them only for dinner. It’s how life will be forever, his father and Hunter discussing sports while his mother brings up an article she found fascinating. It’s jarring to know that this is all he’s ever going to be. This is it. This is his life from now on. 

He wishes something were different. 

Or, sneaking a glance at Hunter over the rim of his glass, that someone was different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at love-that-we-were-in on tumblr and troubletonesglee is at troubletonesglee on there.


	8. Chapter 8

"So..."

Blaine was sat in the local cafe, opposite a really rather attractive boy. He was blonde, with full lips and a cheeky smile. Sam was new to the village, and had quickly made friends with Blaine. Blaine, however, had quickly realised just how much he liked Sam, so had accepted when asked out. 

"What’s your favourite film?"

It turned out that Sam was good at conversation too, asking all the right questions. No, maybe they weren’t particularly deep or insightful, but they were comfortable and easy. That was exactly the way Blaine felt when he was with him. 

That sent them off on a long conversation about films, taking small sips if warm coffee in between words. Blaine was trying to tell himself that it was his drink causing the homey sensation that was spreading in the bottom of his stomach, but he wasn’t so sure. 

A light rush of cold air hit their faces as they left the cafe, both pulling jackets tighter round themselves. Not entirely ready to go home, Blaine nodded when Sam suggested going for a walk. 

"Do you know of anywhere we could go? I’m still getting used to things here."

"Yeah, but I’m not gonna tell you until we get there." Blaine smiled cheekily. 

So they continued to walk, heading further into the village. They were close, but not touching- neither of them were sure if that was alright, and Blaine wasn’t really sure that he wanted to. They weaved down the winding gravel path, stones crunching comfortingly beneath their feet, almost lost under the sound of their chatter. 

They were heading away from the village now, not too far, just enough for them to be alone. A gentle babbling was growing louder, a light gushing sound as they came to a halt. Blaine had to stick an arm out to make sure that Sam didn’t fall into the water, smiling softly as he did so. 

In front of them was a clear stream, the water verging on diamond like. It was bubbling slightly, causing Blaine to look round at the boy stood beside him for a second, before dropping his eyes back to the stream. 

"Come, it’s refreshing." he pulled off his shoes and socks, rolling up the bottom of him trousers so as not to get them wet. He stepped onto the water, the cold rushing up his feet and ankles, but he was careful not to react, not wanting to look weak to Sam. He was also entering the stream now, a soft, surprised sound escaping his throat at the sudden change in temperature, his toes curling in the mud. 

"I’m not sure refreshing is the word I’d use," Sam laughed, "maybe blood pumping.”

Blaine swayed back on his heels, feeling incredibly relaxed here. He began to move up the stream, kicking the water and scrunching his nose as it hit his face. He could practically feel Sam’s grin from behind him. 

"I’m glad my pain amuses you." he called, far from offended. 

Sam snorted, the water rippling as he ran to catch up with him, water flicking the back of Blaine’s knees, arms wrapping round Blaine’s back as he collided with him, head dropping into the gap between his head and shoulders. 

He froze for a moment, something about this not quite right. It was like his head didn’t fit there - it wasn’t uncomfortable, no - but it definitely wasn’t correct. 

But Blaine lowered his shoulders either way, opening himself up to Sam, resting his hands on top carefully. They stayed that way for a few minutes, until Blaine pulled away, turning back and walking back the way they had came. He knew that Sam was frowning, but didn’t why he decided to go - there was nothing wrong with Sam, far from it. Something in his stomach was just telling him not to get too close, that he’s be better without Sam. 

"Are you alright, Blaine?"

"Yes, yeah. I just - remembered that I had to do something today," Blaine replied nervously, "i had a good time today, though, I really enjoyed it." He forced out a smile, glancing at Sam, who looked incredibly confused. It made Blaine flinch a little - he didn’t want to upset him, but he didn’t care enough to say anything more. 

So he pulled his shoes and socks back on instead, trying to ignore how wet his socks now were, and rushed back up to the path, not caring to check whether Sam was following. He had no intention of this being the last time they saw one another though, seeing as he had really liked spending the afternoon with him. But he’d needed to get out of there - needed to get home and clear his head. 

Arriving home, Blaine sat out in their tiny garden, tugging at the grass that was just in front of his mother’s prized roses. He was trying to keep him hands busy, knowing it would prevent his mind from wandering. He brought a leg up, resting his head on his knee, fingers working away at the turf. 

It was only then, as he let himself briefly reflect on the day, that it occurred to him that he hadn’t thought to take Sam to the meadow. 

That’s when it struck him. 

Maybe that had been part of the problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He has to get out of here. It’s not often the walls close in on him, that he’s squeezed into a completely different shape and size. But when it does, it’s suffocating. Everything he knows is warped beyond recognition, lost in blurred vision._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no Blaine in this chapter. I'm sorry. But he'll return soon enough. And we're pulling updates back to once a week (Sundays) with classes picking up since we have less time. Just so you know.

He has to get out of here. It’s not often the walls close in on him, that he’s squeezed into a completely different shape and size. But when it does, it’s suffocating. Everything he knows is warped beyond recognition, lost in blurred vision. 

Hunter’s beside him, enquiring with his mother about something for the wedding that Sebastian couldn’t describe if he wanted to. His voice is distorted, twisted against his eardrums, caught between his mouth and his brain as he excuses himself. He thinks he does anyway. 

The chair scrapes against the stone, loud compared to the echoing of everyone’s words. It’s deafening, the sound of his sudden exit. And there’s a second sound, the same noise carrying across the room with a sense of urgency he hadn’t known anyone in the house to possess. It has to be Hunter, has to be the one person he can’t bring himself to blame in this arrangement because he’s just as stuck. 

“Sebastian,” It’s male and, though he knows it can only be Hunter, he wishes it were someone else. That his weakness wasn’t on display for his future spouse. He swallows. Hard. “Sebastian, stop.” 

It’s commanding. It’s brutal and it stops him in his tracks with its authority. No one’s ever spoken to him that way before. Taken control of the few spirals he’s had. He leans against the nearest surface, a side table near the drawing room, letting the wood cool his palms. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong,” His words seem cheap, even to himself. Hunter’s fingers land on the back of his neck, thumb working in smooth circles that help loosen his muscles. “I was just… overheated.” 

“Don’t lie,” His voice is so close, deep despite the lilt of worry. “Anyone with half a brain can tell you aren’t okay.” 

He can barely hear his own breathing over Hunter’s. Or maybe they’ve merged together, the air in front of their faces warm compared to the clamminess of his hands, the sweat dripping down his back. He’s a mess, hair sweeping across his forehead instead of coiffed back like it normally is, cheeks flushing red despite the draft. 

“It’s just…” He glances up at Hunter through his fringe, at the height he holds himself, at the poise he has, at how put-together he really is. “Its… This is all happening too fast, Hunter.” 

“Go on.” 

“I don’t want to get married,” he starts and the words build up a fire within him, one that threatens to burn him from the inside out if he fails to say them, if he lets them fester under his skin for any longer. “I don’t even know what I want. I don’t want marriage or kids or… half the time I don’t even want to be me.” 

“I think that’s normal, actually. When you lead the life you do, it… it makes sense to want something simpler.” 

“I’m supposed to stand for the crown. For the kingdom.” 

“And you do.” 

His breath hitches, fingers unclenching from the side table so he can turn around. So he can face his fiancé. “I don’t know that I can,” A sigh escapes through his teeth, the ringing in his ears beginning to fade. “It’s bad enough that I’m gay. But this - us - it’s something else entirely.” 

Hunter’s fingers curl in his lapels, one of his hands quickly flattening Sebastian’s tie against his chest. “You’ve done a pretty good job from where I’m standing.” 

“You’ve only known me a few weeks, Hunter,” he scoffs, leaning further into the other man’s touch, even as he pushes him closer to the table. “You can’t know that much about me.” 

“I know that you’re the first member of the royal family to marry a man,” he smiles, trailing his hands from the lapels of his blazer to his shoulders. The heat lingers below his clothing, the line of Hunter’s fingers burning. “You’re going to go down in history for this, Sebastian.” 

“You’re putting a lot of faith in me considering I just ran out on the wedding planning.” 

“One of us has to believe in you.” 

He’s not sure who initiates it, who covers the final inches of distance between their lips. All he knows is that the ringing in his ears is back, that it’s drowning out his worries over the wedding and the future, that Hunter’s palms are warm as they trail over his back. 

But he’s sure his own are just as hot where they rest at Hunter’s waist, where he lets himself sink into the moment, into the consideration and care the other man is giving him. The passion and earnest and sheer lust caught between them. 

Maybe they can make this work after all. 

*

It’s not something he considered before, taking Hunter riding. It’s something he’s always done by himself (if he ignores riding lessons during his childhood years) and to include someone in it, regardless of who they’re about to become to him, isn’t a situation he ever imagined. But, when Hunter asked him, his body still coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his favourite things on earth, he can’t not mention Pavarotti. 

Hunter isn’t as comfortable on a horse as Sebastian is. It’s to be expected, without the history of riding or the preference for it, but he manages it well enough, keeping the horse calm and at a trot as they make their way through the gardens.

It isn’t until they’re there that he realises where he’s taken them. The meadow is still as beautiful as the day he met Blaine, except Blaine isn’t there this time. Instead, he’s next to a tall blond that’s built with muscle upon muscle. He’s with his intended. Who thinks he’s what’s right with his country. Who doesn’t know the flowers beneath their feet. Who wants to be by his side. 

“This is gorgeous, Sebastian,” Hunter says when they dismount. He sits on the grass, laying his blazer down on the still-dewy grass. Hunter copies his movements, rolling his sleeves up to avoid stains as he drags his fingers through the flowers. 

He smiles, his focus straying from the bluebells to the poppies to the veins in Hunter’s arms. “There’s a stream just through the woods. If we didn’t have the horses, I’d take you.” 

“Why don’t we bring them with us?” 

“I’ve never…” he starts, meeting Hunter’s eyes and receiving a stern glare when he tries to protest. “I didn’t even think to do that. I’ve just never brought Pavarotti to the stream.” 

“Well,” Standing straight, offering Sebastian a hand, Hunter grins at him. “Why don’t we give it a go?” 

He wants to do it, wants to give Hunter’s suggestion as much of a chance as the other man gave him. But there’s something between them that doesn’t sit right. 

Hunter doesn’t belong in the meadow. He doesn’t belong on the floor amongst flowers that blend together. He doesn’t belong in the grass, at the stream, in such a common place. 

He’s too tall and his eyes are the colour of moss, not honey. He understands strategy, doing everything he can for the betterment of the country. Understands the correct touches, where to place his gaze and his hands to avoid an outburst. 

He knows how to apply logic to horses and streams and doesn’t understand how to laugh as freely as he can, as he should. 

That’s what makes him shake his head. What makes him throw a fast look to the woodlands, to the location of the stream and the village. To a boy that could tell him which stars shine the brightest and never once think of mentioning himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm at love-that-we-were-in on tumblr and you can find troubletonesglee at troubletonesglee on tumblr as well.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ Blaine hadn’t really been listening when his parents had told him the plans for the next day, so when he was being loudly awoken and bustled out the door, various bouquets under his arms (just like his mother and father) he was naturally very confused. He looked round at Cooper, who had a hug bag filled with who knows what, but he couldn’t find any answers. ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies about the late update, I hope it was worth the wait!

Blaine hadn’t really been listening when his parents had told him the plans for the next day, so when he was being loudly awoken and bustled out the door, various bouquets under his arms (just like his mother and father) he was naturally very confused. He looked round at Cooper, who had a hug bag filled with who knows what, but he couldn’t find any answers. 

They were now heading up a part of the path that Blaine didn’t know, where it turned to stone instead of gravel. He frowned, but decided not to think about it too much - he was more focused on getting these flowers to their destination in one piece. 

A large building was coming into view now, his mother growing more and more on edge as they got closer. Blaine looked at her questioningly, but all he got in return was a raised eyebrow and a sucked in breath. So he looked in front instead, trying to make out some of the structure. It had huge, round towers and spires, and as he got closer a flash of what looked suspiciously like gold caught his eye. 

It occurred to him then, that there was only one place that could possibly look like this. The castle. Of course. 

His fingers clutched the flowers tighter, careful not to disturb the ribbon that held them together so neatly. Blaine chewed on his bottom lip, a nervous habit that seemed to be becoming more common. 

As they passed through the huge gates, he watched as his father, then his mother, and then Cooper were checked over, waiting for it to be his turn. Once that was all done, they were bustled inside, and ushered through the vast falls to a huge room, with high ceilings and echoey wooden floors. No one else was there yet, but they were instructed to set up their flower displays, which Blaine organised by colour, whilst Cooper and his father manoeuvred the difficult knots, his mother adding the finishing touches that only she had an eye for. 

They all stood back, being run through the royal protocol (don’t speak until you’re spoken to, bow when they enter and again when you leave, and soon), just as the door swung open, a man Blaine recognised as the king practically marching in, followed by the queen, who closely surveyed the flowers. Blaine craned his neck, unsure whether -

That’s when he came in. 

Sebastian swept in, hair slicked tightly back, hands shoved deeply into his pockets, looking as put together as ever. His eyes only met Blaine’s for a second, until he became aware of a final figure stood just behind him, a figure Blaine hadn’t noticed until that moment. 

Hunter. 

Hunter slid an arm round Sebastian’s waist, whispering something to him before they both crossed to the centre of the room, Hunter’s arm back at his side. They joined Sebastian’s parents, Blaine and his family bowing as they’d been shown. 

"Let’s begin," the Queen suggested, Blaine’s mother spring to life as soon as she spoke, explaining each and every arrangement to them. 

Sebastian was nodding emptily, making the odd comment here and there as Hunter tried his best to engage his fiancé. 

Blaine just smiled firmly, listening to his mother talk about tones and which colour compliments what, picking up on the mentions of Sebastian’s school days. 

He only faltered when Cooper made an inappropriate comment, relating to a harsh rumour that had circulated about Hunter, causing heat to rush to Blaine’s cheeks as he desperately tried to cover his brother’s comment. 

Cooper had never wanted to stay in the village, nor work for the family, but after an incident a few years back he had felt he needed to wait at home for a year or two. Those two years turned into more, and he’d never made it out. Blaine couldn’t help but feel awful his Cooper- he’d been too young to understand everything at the time, but there was nothing protecting him from seeing how miserable his brother was here - the jealousy, and then sadness that had crossed his face when one of his friends had left for the city, the pain of not knowing what lay beyond the meadow. 

But now Blaine’s name had been mentioned, all eyes turning to him. He almost buckled beneath the stares, feeling uncomfortable knowing that the king and queen were looking at him, aware, even if only momentarily, of his name. 

He was trying harder to ignore the gaze he could feel burning into the top of his head the hardest, not entirely sure how he could differentiate between the intensity of stares but knowing that there was one anyway. 

"Yes, that’s me. I can run you through it all in a moment or I can just write down the most important parts?"

"I think it’s best you run us through it, we don’t want to be getting the admin wrong."

The King’s voice was firm, commanding even, but Blaine simply nodded with a pleasant smile, turning to pull out some documents that they always gave to potential customers. 

He turned for a second, only allowing himself a quick glance in the prince’s direction, having only just now realised that him and Hunter had moved, standing further away. He assumed they were discussing the arrangements, stood closely together. It was only when Hunter briefly looked in Blaine’s direction that it occurred to him that they were discussing him. He bowed his head, searching for a pen that was already in his hand nervously, doing anything to make himself look busy. 

He gave a cautious second look over at them, before finally straightening up. Keeping his eyes off of Sebastian would be a challenge, but he had a feeling that Hunter was less than impressed at Blaine’s presence. It didn’t matter how Blaine felt about the prince- he was not his to want. 

So instead, he spoke as clearly as possible to Sebastian’s parents, listened as hard as he could when they gave him directions to whoever looked after admin things in the castle, and left quietly, not letting himself turn back round when he walked away from the building, focused on moving far, far, away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Blaine’s presence is in the back of his mind as soon as they enter the room, standing beside his parents, various bouquets spread across every surface. They’re organised by colour and he wonders if that’s Blaine’s doing or someone else’s._

Blaine’s presence is in the back of his mind as soon as they enter the room, standing beside his parents, various bouquets spread across every surface. They’re organised by colour and he wonders if that’s Blaine’s doing or someone else’s. He doesn’t know much about the other man, about whether he has an order to things or if his routine is chaos, but he wants to. He wants to know the different between each shade of green littered amongst bluebells, the stark contrast of red against burgundy. Things he’s never cared about before - he wants to know it all. 

Hunter’s hand is firm on his waist, possibly the only thing keeping him grounded enough to focus on the conversation. He’d missed the original plan for the flowers, had panicked and gotten into his own head, so he has to pay attention now, has to contribute something to his future. 

“We want something simple,” Hunter says, and he watches his mother nod in agreement. “Understated since the wedding itself is a statement.” 

“Elegant?” The man talking has to be Blaine’s father, the same jawline and black hair that’s started to grey at the temples. He’s wearing glasses, thick black frames that can’t be anything but used for reading, and Sebastian briefly ponders whether it’s genetic, whether there will come a day where Blaine has to invest in a pair. 

“Quite,” Hunter confirms, letting his arm drop so he can approach the bouquets. He strokes a finger over one of the petals and Sebastian swears he can feel the touch on his neck. “We’re thinking of navy blue as our main colour, red accents as well. An homage to Sebastian’s school days at Dalton.” 

“We can do that,” Blaine’s mother (he assumes) nods, hazel eyes he recognises from late nights stolen from time. “Is there nothing specific to your past you’d like to be included, sir?” 

“We don’t make needle bouquets,” a boy whispers to Blaine and he’s surprised he’s gone unnoticed. He’s clearly uninterested in the entire situation, in the illusion behind being at the royal palace. He thinks he’s built for more than this, that his looks which are, arguably, extremely impressive, will take him farther than floristry ever could. 

Blaine shushes him, wide eyes and red cheeks and he knows he shouldn’t find it endearing, that he should be insulted on Hunter’s behalf because there was more to the story than the public knew, than even Sebastian knew. But it’s in Blaine’s eyes darting back and forth, scared that someone overheard him, that he finds some humour. 

“I’m trying to focus on the good,” Hunter smiles, a perfect politician smile that’s sure to get him far. “And that’s more Sebastian’s education than mine. So, we can use that colour scheme, yes?”

“Of course,” Blaine’s mother says and his own brings her into a more detailed conversation about concepts and shades and the seasons. It takes a second to lean enough into their conversation that he can hear them. “Blaine does all the administrative work for us so it’s likely him you’ll be dealing with.” 

“And Blaine is?” 

He almost wants to point him out, to be the one to bring the short boy to his mothers attention. He keeps still, Hunter joining him again, as Blaine steps forward, greeting his mother appropriately. Sebastian fights the urge to snort at it, that same first meeting where Blaine had fumbled to stand when Sebastian had arrived. 

“Why do you look so uncomfortable?” Hunter whispers in his ear, disguising it with a strategically placed kiss to the cheek. 

“I look normal,” he protests, keeping his attention firmly fixed on Blaine’s father instead of across the room. “Maybe you’re uncomfortable.” 

“I’m not,” Hunter is silent for a moment, and Sebastian notices his head turn in the direction of Blaine, of the only person making this meeting awkward. For him, anyway. “Do you know him?” 

He shakes his head immediately and knows he’s given it away. They may only just be getting used to one another’s quirks but some of them are easy, especially when it’s instant denial. Hunter would have to be an idiot to miss it. “We’ve... met. A couple of times.” 

“And?” 

“And what? That’s it.” 

“There has to be more to it, Sebastian,” Hunter tells him, directing them further from the others and into privacy. He bites the inside of his cheek. “You wouldn’t be staring at him as often if it was nothing.” 

“Maybe it’s not nothing,” he agrees, regretting ever giving his fiancé a chance to know him. This wouldn’t have happened if they only met at the wedding. “But nothing has happened.” 

“You want something to, though?” 

“That’s absurd,” he tries, keeping his eyes firmly locked on Hunter’s. On green with flecks of blue instead of a fine whisky. “I’m getting married.” 

“You have heard the saying ‘you can look but you can’t touch’, right?” 

He has. Most people have in this day and age. But it doesn’t make sense, an old saying that applies more to a chocolate cake than a pretty boy. He stares at Hunter, waiting for him to explain, for the meaning of his words to be revealed. 

“If you really want to,” Hunter begins, looking over Sebastian’s shoulder. Looking at Blaine going over finances or flowers, things Sebastian doesn’t quite get. “I don’t mind.” 

“Huh?”

“I mean, this isn’t a marriage of love. You and I aren’t held down by the same notions most couples are,” he breathes in deeply and Sebastian can start to understand, to see what he’s trying to say. “If you want to go for something with him, up until the wedding, I won’t stop you.” 

“I can’t do that.”

“I’m giving you permission, Sebastian.” 

“You shouldn’t have to,” he says, his voice verging on almost too loud. Blaine’s father looks over at them but, when he doesn’t say anything for a moment, returns to his conversation. “This isn’t even something you should be considering.” 

“But I am.” 

“I won’t do it.” 

Hunter sighs but nods in acceptance. “Okay, but if you do, all I want is the truth.” 

“I can promise you that I’ll tell you if, for some strange reason, that does end up a reality,” he promises, and his mother calls them over. “It’s not going to happen though.” 

“Okay, sweetheart,” hunter says mockingly, and he glares, a grin stretching across his cheeks. “Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us at @/love-that-we-were-in and @/troubletonesglee on tumblr.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The first thing that Blaine was aware of when he woke up was the throbbing pain in the back of his head. His eyes rolled back, before the light stung them, a hand flying up to cover them. His fingers grabbed at his still slicked hair, fingers tugging secure strands free."

The first thing that Blaine was aware of when he woke up was the throbbing pain in the back of his head. His eyes rolled back, before the light stung them, a hand flying up to cover them. His fingers grabbed at his still slicked hair, fingers tugging secure strands free. 

Waiting a moment, he dropped a foot down onto the cold floor, sending a shiver up Blaine’s entire body. He crossed into the bathroom, peering into the mirror nervously. His eyes were dark, skin sore, presumably from the stress rubbing of his face that had become habit a few years ago. 

He raised a hand, breathing into it. Alcohol. Of course. 

Blaine wasn’t much of a drinker normally, but he had been finding it increasingly more difficult so say no when he was asked out to a local bar. Seeing Sebastian and Hunter together so much recently hurt - he knew it shouldn’t, and quite frankly he had no idea why it did - but it did either way, and any sort of relief was good enough for Blaine. 

He splashed his face with cold water, deciding just to head back to bed. 

"You could try going higher?"

Blaine was sat in front of Rachel, listening to her run one of her numbers. He wasn’t listening hard enough to know what the song was - he was scanning the documents in front of him, head in his hands, trying to make sense of the bouquet order in front of him. Why had his mother let them order mixed bouquets?! They may have been the royal family but this was just harder for everyone. 

"Blaine, look at me."

His friend’s voice cut through his focus, face positioned so close to his that he already knew that she was doing her "I know exactly what you’re thinking," process. 

"What are you so down about?"

"Nothing," Blaine replied, keeping his eyes trained down on the paper (even if he wasn’t doing anything). 

"We both know that thats a lie. You’ve been going out way more lately. You even went out with Cooper! You never do that."

"I’m fine, Rachel. I’m fine." he pushed out his chair, tone much sharper and harsher than he’d intended. 

"Look, if you’re feeling... overworked, or something, we can talk -"

"I said I’m fine, Rachel." He picked up his work and stormed out of the room. 

If she hadn’t believed him before, she definitely wouldn’t now. 

After having left Rachel, Blaine had found himself in the shop, trying to work in there instead. He’d had a few meetings back up at the castle by now, normally just running through numbers with the secretary. But they weren’t all adding up, and they were beginning to all look the same, swirling together on the page. He was determined to get this done today, but that was slowly becoming harder and harder, his eyes growing heavier and heavier. 

The next thing he knew he was being shaken awake by his mother, who was then pulling the curtains open and turning to face him, hands on her hips. 

"You’re meant to be helping Cooper carry the display vases up to the castle today."  
Blaine rolled over, sitting up to look at her. "Right, yeah."

"Now."

He groaned and got dressed, running the smallest bit of gel through his hair. It was unlikely that they would see anyone, they were just leaving them there with a few examples of flower arrangements that his mother had undoubtedly already prepared. 

When he was done he walked out into the kitchen, where he was greeted by an extremely unamused Cooper. 

"You took your time."

Blaine simply shrugged, grabbing the toast out of the toaster (Cooper swatted him for that - turned out it was his) and quickly shoving it into his mouth. 

"I’ll wait outside."

He leant against the wall, tapping his foot on the ground. The vases had already been brought out here, ready to be lugged up the hill. Blaine tied his already coming undone shoelaces, straightening up when Cooper came to join him. 

"You took your time," Blaine grinned. 

His brother rolled his eyes, before tugging up one of the bigger, wooden vases and strapping it over his shoulders. 

"Grab the smaller ones for me, they should be in that bag?"

Blaine passed it to him, before copying Cooper’s actions and attaching the second vase to his back. 

"You all good to go?" Cooper asked. 

"Yeah, lets go."

When they got to the castle, they were directed up to the formal foyer; where they got to work arranging the flowers. They were following their mother’s diagrams closely, being sure to stick to them as best as possible. She had such a way with flowers - colour and fragrance, shade and saturation. Each bouquet was so carefully designed, so thoughtfully organised. It was no surprise that the Anderson’s were the most trusted florists for miles. 

They were both so engrossed in what they were doing that they jumped when voices carried into the room, turning to check whether they needed to bow. As it turned out, they did because Sebastian and Hunter had entered. 

"Ah, I apologise. I hadn’t realised that people were in here."

Sebastian’s eyes then fell upon Blaine, who couldn’t help but adjust his collar. His lack of gel then struck him, too, and he mentally kicked himself for it. Of course Sebastian would see him like this. 

"It’s really no trouble, you’re not interrupting anything."

Blaine was extremely thankful for Cooper’s company in that moment, glad that his brother always knew what to say. 

"Yes, well we’ll leave you two to it. The flowers look lovely, although I’m sure Hunter will tell me off for looking." Sebastian smiled, and Hunter did what was surely a fake laugh and a gracious nod. 

The pair swept out of the room, leaving Blaine and Cooper alone. 

"Hot?" Cooper teased, an eyebrow raised. 

"Be quiet."

"I’m hurt, squirt."

Blaine turned back to the diagrams, realigning one of the bunches. 

That’s when he hit the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _It happens in slow motion, jagged movements following the thud of Blaine’s body as he crashes to the floor. Hunter is quicker in his reactions, snapping at him to get help, before checking Blaine over for basic injuries, basic first aid that anyone with life experience would understand for it’s important._

It happens in slow motion, jagged movements following the thud of Blaine’s body as he crashes to the floor. Hunter is quicker in his reactions, snapping at him to get help, before checking Blaine over for basic injuries, basic first aid that anyone with life experience would understand for it’s important. 

His mother had arranged for a guest bed to be made up at the doctors recommendation of rest, insisting that Cooper leave his brother and go home. She would ensure he get home in the morning, following plenty of sleep and a hearty meal, but that she wanted to be convinced herself that he was okay. 

Hunter shows Blaine’s brother out, returning long after Blaine comes to, guided to the prepared room by Sebastian’s careful hand and gone back to sleep. He finds Sebastian at the shorter boy’s bedside, head rolled to the side as he stares out of the window opposite. 

“Having fun?” 

He startles, glaring at his intended as he picks himself up off the floor. “You could’ve let me know you were here without giving me a heart attack, you know.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hunter asks, dragging a chair to sit next to him. “He’s going to be fine. I spoke to the doctor on my way in.” 

“I know he’s going to be fine. It was just stress and lack of food.”

“Exactly,” Hunter nods, reaching out to squeeze his thigh gently. “So why do you look so worried?” 

He stares at Blaine, at the curls slowly coming loose at his forehead, at his flushed cheeks and closed eyes. At the steady ride and fall of his breathing as he sleeps. “He just always seems so upbeat. It’s weird seeing him so low. Disconcerting.” 

“Everyone has bad days, Sebastian,” Hunter laughs, shaking his head gently. “This one just happened to be worse than others.” 

“Mhmm.” 

His fiancé stands, carrying the chair back to where it had been before. He drags a hand over Sebastian’s shoulders, cool and comforting. “I’ll leave you two alone.” 

It must take an hour, maybe more, for Blaine to begin to stir again, for his eyes to blink open and reveal bland hazel. There’s a moment, one short moment, where their eyes meet and Blaine’s eyes glisten, the haze gone until he blinks once more and adjusts to his location. 

“Are you okay?” He finally asks, Blaine sitting up in bed, an arm raised to scratch his neck. 

Blaine stares at him, brain slowly working over the words, formulating a reply that takes much longer than it should. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he glances around again. “Where am I?” 

“One of the guest rooms,” he explains, handing Blaine a bottle of water that a member of the staff had dropped off at his mothers request almost half an hour ago. “The doctor advised us that it would be better to keep you hear for the night instead of letting you head home by yourself.” 

“What about Cooper?” 

“He left not long after you fainted.” 

“Okay.”

They drop into silence, into the draft in the air from aged walls and a day wasted away. He keeps his gaze locked on Blaine even as the other man lets his stray across other parts of the room, lets his gaze drift from ringlet to ringlet draping across Blaine’s forehead. 

“Why do you keep staring at me?”

“I don’t,” he counters, hastily averting his eyes as Blaine turns to face him. It’s the single most obvious thing he’s ever done in his life and he barely resists slapping himself on the forehead. “You’re making things up.” 

“I don’t think I am,” Blaine says, fingers trailing over the blanket they’d provided him with for a stray thread, for something else to pay close attention to. “I think you’re interested in me.” 

“I have Hunter.”

“And we both know that’s out of convenience,” Blaine argues, dropping the hem of the comforter to talk directly to Sebastian. “I think you want out of the marriage and being the prince and all of this that you’ve grown into.” 

“You have no way of knowing that.” His voice cracks nearly imperceptibly, rising the tiniest bit at the end of his sentence.” 

“Do you honestly think people don’t talk about you when they know you can’t hear them? When they can say whatever they want?”

“Of course I know people talk about me,” he rolls his eyes, tilting his head. “I’m fascinating.” 

“Most of it’s to insult you, actually,” Blaine says, eyes shining like whisky in the sunlight again. “But not always.” 

“So who did you hear your great information from then?” 

“A friend of Rachel’s,” he nods, before shaking his head. “They aren’t really friends so much as people that sleep together on occasion.” 

“That means nothing to me.” 

“If that’s how you want it.” 

Blaine drains his water and, after a second of thought, “you can’t stay in here while I’m sleeping.” 

“I wasn’t planning to,” he says, pushing himself off the chair he’s spent the better part of his day in. His back clicks, he rolls his shoulders to fight the stiffness settling in the muscles. “But why not?”

Blaine gestures for him to move closer, to lean over his body until their breath is mingling, until he can feel himself tense with how much he wants to fill the space. How much he wants to kiss Blaine. 

“Are you going to answer the question?” 

The other boy nods gently, his nose brushing against Sebastian’s with the barest hint of a touch. It’s just like that morning, when his legs were too slow, when his arms refused to cooperate. When everything slowed down and he wasn’t completely in control of himself anymore. 

Their lips brush and he blinks, Blaine pulling away as soon as they’ve, technically, kissed. His eyes are shining, a mixture of coffee and hazelnut and toffee that he can’t even begin to comprehend. 

“I’m sleepy,” Blaine says, turning on his side. Sebastian backs away, still in shock from the quick, hesitant movements just moments before, the graze of Blaine’s lips on his still lingering. “So you have to leave. Night.” 

“Yeah... night.” 

Hunter raises an eyebrow at him when he pours himself a drink and it’s clear that hunter knows, that’s he’s taken a single look at Sebastian and understood things Sebastian didn’t even understand just yet. They don’t talk about it but he knows it’s coming, that hunter won’t let this go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us at love-that-we-were-in and troubletonesglee on tumblr.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine could only vaguely remember how he’d gotten into bed, so it was even more of a shock that it wasn’t his bed that he was in. The ceiling was far more intricate that at home, cherubs and half naked women with flowing, golden hair carefully painted onto it. He blinked, trying to conjure up any possible memories of what might’ve happened to led him here, but it want until he became aware of the pain in the back of his head that it hit him.

Blaine could only vaguely remember how he’d gotten into bed, so it was even more of a shock that it wasn’t his bed that he was in. The ceiling was far more intricate that at home, cherubs and half naked women with flowing, golden hair carefully painted onto it. He blinked, trying to conjure up any possible memories of what might’ve happened to led him here, but it want until he became aware of the pain in the back of his head that it hit him. 

He had passed out. 

In the castle. 

Sebastian had been right there. He would’ve seen everything. 

Blaine pulled himself up and out of the bed, his body immediately yearning to fall back into the muddle of sheets, his head begging for the insane comfort of the pillow, but he refused to allow himself to, desperate to get out. 

He felt around for his shoes, a hand on his head in a futile attempt to the dull the incoming headache, tugging them on quickly, and pushing the door open. 

He was in a vast hallway now, doors lining each wall and no clear exit. Closing his eyes, Blaine sucked in a worried breath. He’d never find his way out. 

At least that was what he thought until he heard Cooper’s voice cut through the silence, being told to "wait for a few moments, he’s not ready". 

Blaine frowned, before realising that he was the subject of their conversation. He followed the voices, ending up back in the empty cavern of the ballroom. 

"Hi, I’m here."

The maid’s head whipped round, surprised to see Blaine. 

"Come on, squirt, lets get you home."

"He’s not ready to go, Mr Anderson, he needs -"

"Yes, I am. I appreciate you caring but I’m alright now."

With that, Cooper grabber Blaine’s arm, pulling him out into the next hall. Blaine looked round, a figure coming into view. The figure of someone very familiar to Blaine. 

It wasn’t until his eyes met the green of Sebastian’s that his hand instinctively moved to his lips. Sebastian had kissed him, and he’d kissed him back. 

He couldn’t have gotten out of there fast enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> This chapter was much shorter than normal - that was intentional. See if you can guess why!


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Hunter confronts him later than he expected, ambushing him as he makes his way to the stables. The gardens are becoming chillier, raising goosebumps on his skin if he doesn’t dress appropriately, and he regrets not seeing Pavarotti in a few days, his mind swarmed with thoughts of wedding preparations. Now though, with Blaine’s soft lips on constant replay, he has to escape the grounds._

Hunter confronts him later than he expected, ambushing him as he makes his way to the stables. The gardens are becoming chillier, raising goosebumps on his skin if he doesn’t dress appropriately, and he regrets not seeing Pavarotti in a few days, his mind swarmed with thoughts of wedding preparations. Now though, with Blaine’s soft lips on constant replay, he has to escape the grounds. 

“You know you can’t just run away, right?” 

He turns, briefly, before mounting Pavarotti. “I’m not running away,” he mumbles, even if that is, in fact, what he’s doing. Hunter leans against the stable wall, staring unblinkingly when Sebastian fails to move. “I’m not.” 

“Of course you aren’t,” he responds, shrugging lightly. “The same way you have no interest in Blaine.” 

“I don’t,” he says and it’s so high pitched that he’s forced to fight a wince. His voice hasn’t been that high since he was ten. He clears his throat. “I don’t.” 

Hunter pushes off the wall, approaching him with caution. He clambers off of Pavarotti, resigning himself to the conversation they have to have. He waits in silence for the other man to speak, unsure where the conversation is set to begin. 

“I told you before that it was fine as long as you told me the truth.” 

“I am telling you the truth.” 

“No you aren’t,” Hunter says and he’s so sure of it that Sebastian can’t meet his gaze. He bites the inside of his cheek, thinking of Quinn’s last visit. Of her express desire to drive across the country. Maybe he could join her. “Something happened after I left you with Blaine.” 

He lets his silence speak for itself, the truth seeping from his mind into the atmosphere and, although there’s nothing stated for sure, Hunter gets it. “What happened, Sebastian?” 

He swallows, locking his eyes on the sprawling fields behind Hunter. “I kissed him.” 

There’s distinct relief, a weight off his chest that’s unrivalled, but he takes one look at his fiance, at the man he had promised to be faithful to, and he wants to vomit. 

“Okay,” Hunter nods and it’s not angry - it’s melancholy and acceptance and a bunch of stuff that shouldn’t be there at all - but he hates himself all the same. “I can live with that.” 

“Hunter,” he tries, stretching a hand out. The other man takes a step back. “I’m sorry.” 

“I really should’ve seen this coming. He’s very handsome.” 

“So are you,” he argues, hoping that he can make Hunter see sense. As much of an arrangement as this is, he does like Hunter well enough that he doesn’t feel like being engaged is suffering anymore. “I did a bad thing. Let me make it up to you.” 

“You can’t just… you can’t make it up to me, Sebastian,” Hunter says and finally, finally, there’s bitterness seeping through his tone. There’s rage and fury. It’s weird that that comforts him. “I get that I’m not what you wanted - that I’m never going to be good enough - but you tried to lie to me.” 

“I didn’t want to upset you,” he almost screams, wishing desperately he could take it all back. “You deserve better than having your fiance kiss someone else.” 

“I told you before that it was okay and I stand by that, I just…” Hunter drifts off, shoulders dropping. “I just need some time.” 

He wants to beg for forgiveness, for a second chance. But Hunter’s jaw is tight and his eyes are flitting across the stable in a mission to avoid Sebastian, so he lets it go. “Take as much time as you need.” 

Hunter nods stiffly, turning on his heel. He reaches the door and, not for the first time, Sebastian wishes he were less of a coward. That he was a better person. It takes him minutes after Hunter leaves to escape on Pavarotti, not entirely sure who he wants to see. 

*

Surprisingly, Quinn is in the village. She’s with Rachel Berry and, despite his many questions, he waits for them to say their goodbyes before pulling her away. They find a cafe - it isn’t the most private but he’s in desperate need for coffee and cake - and the owner is kind enough not to freak out outrageously when Sebastian hands over much more money than the purchase requires. 

“What do you want?” Quinn asks as soon as they’re seated. He barely resists the urge to bury his face in his hands, the children openly staring at him from a table over the one thing that stops him. 

“You know the florists’ son?” 

“Cooper?” 

“Blaine,” He ignores the confused scrunch of her eyebrows as he continues. “I kissed him.” 

“You did what?” she whispers, leaning closer so they aren’t overheard. “I know that it’s common to have a bit on the side, Sebastian, but that’s normally after you get married.” 

“I know that,” he shovels a bite of chocolate cake into his mouth. “I feel awful.” 

“You should,” she says, pointedly. He glares, chewing on another piece of cake. “You did a bad thing.” 

“Wow, thanks.” 

“But that doesn’t make you a bad person.” 

He stops eating, meeting her crystal clear gaze. “Huh?” 

“We’ve all done bad things, Sebastian. It doesn’t make you an awful person. Did you tell Hunter?” He nods, unsure where she’s going with this. “Did you apologise to him?” Another nod and things start to clear up slightly. “So you’ve done the bare minimum.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay, Quinn.” 

She sighs, the heavy one she reserves for when someone is particularly dense. It’s the first time he’s been on the receiving end. He regrets ever letting anyone go through this. “Have you spoken to Blaine?” 

“No,” he answers, watching as a blond teenager grins happily at the boy he’s with. “He ran off before I knew he had woken up the second time.” 

“So you need to talk to him,” Quinn tells him, rolling her eyes like he’s the dumbest person she’s ever met. “It’s really quite simple.” 

He stares around at the town, at Rachel Berry waiting nearby. At the children rushing around. At the baker yelling across the street to his son, the one with the blond. If they can live normal lives and deal with the tornado of emotions swirling through him, so can he. 

“Alright,” he agrees, downing the last of his coffee. “I will go and talk to Blaine right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find us at @/love-that-we-were-in and @/troubletonesglee on tumblr.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is Blaine here?"
> 
> Blaine’s mothers head snapped up, eyes widening as she realised who was in front of her. She bowed her head, straightening up and pulling at her skirts to neaten them. 
> 
> "No, he isn’t. I can tell him to come and see you when he comes back?"
> 
> "I need to speak to him today, really? Any idea how long he’ll be?"
> 
> "No, I’m not -"
> 
> The bell above the door chimed then, two figures entering the shop. One had blond hair, and the second - Blaine. 
> 
> "Next time we’ll have to go for that coffee you told me about."
> 
> "Wait, really? You want to?" The blond babbled. 
> 
> "Of course, Sam. I had fun today."
> 
> "Right, sure, yeah. I’ll see you then."
> 
> Blaine nodded, a bright smile on his lips. He watched "Sam" leave, then turned to look at his mother. 
> 
> "Sebastian?"

"Is Blaine here?"

Blaine’s mothers head snapped up, eyes widening as she realised who was in front of her. She bowed her head, straightening up and pulling at her skirts to neaten them. 

"No, he isn’t. I can tell him to come and see you when he comes back?"

"I need to speak to him today, really? Any idea how long he’ll be?"

"No, I’m not -"

The bell above the door chimed then, two figures entering the shop. One had blond hair, and the second - Blaine. 

"Next time we’ll have to go for that coffee you told me about."

"Wait, really? You want to?" The blond babbled. 

"Of course, Sam. I had fun today."

"Right, sure, yeah. I’ll see you then."

Blaine nodded, a bright smile on his lips. He watched "Sam" leave, then turned to look at his mother. 

"Sebastian?"

"You mean-"

"No, I don’t mind just being referred to by my name. Could we go somewhere quieter?" Sebastian asked Blaine’s mother. 

"We can go to my room?"

"I’m not sure that’s -"

"That’s great."

Blaine led Sebastian into his room, suddenly very aware of how unspecial it was. His room was quite dark, walls covered in posters and pictures in an attempt to cover the slightly shabby wallpaper. His carpet wasn’t much better, definitely in need of a brush, and he found himself stood protectively in front of one of the walls, almost as if he was trying to remove it from view. Sebastian only briefly glanced around, seemingly uncaring about his surroundings. 

"Is this about the display? You know, the blue one? The numbers were wrong, I believe?"

"No, we can sort that another time. We need to talk."

Blaine paused, not entirely sure what Sebastian meant, nor particularly excited to find out. 

"The kiss," ah. That," "that was never meant to happen. I shouldn’t have done it, it was wrong of me. I’ve already discussed it with my fiancé, but I felt it was important for me to clear a few things up with you about it."

"Sebastian, I-"

"It didn’t mean anything. It doesn’t matter what you felt, because I know you did, it was nothing. To tell the truth, something in me reacted - I don’t know what, just like I don’t know why - but even then, it meant nothing. Alright?"

"Sebastian, listen -"

"There’s nothing for me to listen to. We will not be discussing this again, especially around anybody else. That kiss - that’s between me and you. No one else is to know."

"You got to tell Hunter."

"That’s because I am to marry him, Blaine. I couldn’t hold it from him forever. You can tell your boyfriend if you must, but I’d really rather you didn’t."

"My boyfriend? What?"

"I should probably ask that I don’t work as closely with you from here onwards. Don’t worry, I won’t make it suspicious. I’ll see you around."

Sebastian turned on his heel, shutting the door behind him. Blaine was left staring at the wooden panels, slightly in shock from the encounter. He’d never seen so many emotions cross any one person’s face at any one time - especially not that quickly. There’d been nothing, and then anger, but then sadness, and almost loneliness. That had meant something. Something much deeper than he knew the prince would ever admit. 

It hurt, a little, that he hadn’t given Blaine an opportunity to speak; he had felt that he deserved one, really, considering he had been a part of that kiss. But he’d known better than to keep trying, knew that Sebastian wouldn’t have waited around to hear him out. 

How he knew this, Blaine didn’t know - despite the fact that he barely knew the prince, he shouldn’t really know anything about him, or how he felt - but he could understand so much just from the way his eyes had darkened, the somehow damaged tone to his voice. Obviously there was something bothering him - the kiss - but there was something below that - something more. 

But Blaine would never get the chance to find out, not now. Sebastian had made it extremely clear that he had no interest in ever seeing Blaine again, let alone talk to him. 

He couldn’t ask Cooper to keep an eye out either - his brother would want to know everything, and Blaine didn’t want that, and it was quite apparent that Sebastian didn’t either. 

Blaine wasn’t sure what he could do about it all - but he knew he had to figure it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! :)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm at love-that-we-were-in on tumblr, where you can also find troubletonesglee.


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